


Say A Prayer (Bury My Name)

by clotpolesonly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Laura Hale, Character Study, Ficlet, Gen, Past Character Death, Resurrected Laura Hale, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: Laura chokes on dirt. It’s cold and heavy on her tongue, and it churns all around her as she claws for purchase, searching forupandout.By the time she finds it, her head is spinning, heart pounding, lungs screaming for air. She coughs and coughs and coughs.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40
Collections: Laura Hale Appreciation Week 2020





	Say A Prayer (Bury My Name)

**Author's Note:**

> a quick little character study of the moment that Laura crawls up out of her grave, for LHAW day 5's theme of Resurrection. it's a companion piece to [this gifset](https://clotpolesonly.tumblr.com/post/187971844014/for-laurahale-appreciation-week-day-five-from) from last year, where Peter's ritual drags Laura back up with him because it uses Hale blood and she's a dead Hale buried very close by, so why _shouldn't_ it work on her too?

Laura chokes on dirt. It’s cold and heavy on her tongue, and it churns all around her as she claws for purchase, searching for _up_ and _out._ By the time she finds it, her head is spinning, heart pounding, lungs screaming for air. She coughs and coughs and coughs.

Charred wood looms over her on one side, trees on the other. The moon is full. She doesn’t even have to pry her eyes open to know that much; she can _feel_ it beneath her stinging skin. 

Is it the same full moon? The last thing she remembers is the moon hanging over her, peeking through the trees to dapple the clearing, and Peter—

_Peter._

Wide, empty eyes. A mouth full of fangs. A snarl that ripped through the silence of the forest the same way that claws ripped through the tender flesh of her belly.

Laura’s fingers scrabble across her body, searching. She remembers blood and pain— _so much pain_ —but there’s nothing there. Her stomach is unmarred, dirt crusted over smooth, naked skin, and her hands shake.

Her ears ring, but beneath it, she thinks she hears voices nearby, too muffled to make out. She tries to speak and ends up coughing again, harsh, wracking coughs that make her ribs ache and her throat burn. The coolness of the dirt is soothing, now that it’s just pressed against her flushed cheek instead of bearing down on her from above.

She needs to move, she knows that much, but her limbs don’t quite feel connected to her body and her feverish mind can’t seem to tell her where she _is,_ much less where else she should be. So she lies there, breathing as deeply as she can manage, letting herself come together piece by piece.

There was an attack. Her uncle, Peter, attacked her in the woods when she came to meet him like he asked her to. There’s flashes of teeth in her jumbled memory, avalanches of pain, the sharp-bright spike of fear as darkness overcame her. And then nothing.

Nothing until now.

Crawling out of the ground.

Out of a _grave._

Dirt turns to mud against her cheek, wetted by tears as the realization sinks in that she was _dead._ It doesn’t make any sense, but she knows it now as surely as she knows her own name—for however long, she was dead and buried. And now she’s not.

It’s a monumental effort to get her hands underneath her, and even more so to force them to support her weight. Her muscles tremble like a newborn foal and give out twice before she manages to hoist herself off of the ground. Finally, she stands.

Her childhood home is before her, burned out and decrepit, on the verge of collapse. For the first time, Laura feels like she understands it.

But with each breath, her lungs feel stronger. The tremble in her muscles lessens and stills. Her skin, fresh and new, stops stinging in the cold night air, and the ringing in her ears dissipates.

From the soothingly familiar scent on the breeze, her brother is just inside, but he’s not the only one. There are voices still, one that she recognizes and one that she doesn’t. _Peter_ is in that house. Peter, who lured her in and ended her life. Peter, who murdered her and stole her mother’s power from her. The tide of fury that rises within Laura is fire and vengeance, red-hot despite the fact that her eyes glow gold now.

The moon’s pull straightens her spine; it’s always given her strength when she needed it. She prays that it will give her the strength for this.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable on tumblr!](https://clotpolesonly.tumblr.com/post/630172104969568256/say-a-prayer-bury-my-name)


End file.
